


Backfired

by Bunnyhops



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 19:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7236001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnyhops/pseuds/Bunnyhops
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faerie dust and love's true heart-mate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backfired

**_Disclaimer: I Own Nothing._ **

**

Silently, he shuffled his way down the rickety stairs, wondering where she was. Ron wiped his brow and stepped into the kitchen of his childhood home to get some water. He turned the taps and cringed when the pipes groaned.   As he let the water run for the requisite thirty seconds to ensure the rust had run its course, the sense of urgency came back to him tenfold.

They had to go within the hour or he would have to wait another year.

He drank deeply, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and walked down the hall the find her. He heard soft breathing in the sitting room. He tiptoed inside and caught his breath upon seeing Hermione sprawled on the floor. The sheet was twisted around her ankle and rolled in between her legs. The light sleep tank top she wore was scrunched up at her rib cage.

Ron wiped his brow again; it was cooler down here, but still hot.

_Now or never, old boy._

Kneeling down beside her, Ron whispered her name and shook her shoulder. “’Mione!”

Nothing.

“’Mione!” he called a little louder and with a little more force to his shake.

 

Ron tensed a second later when he felt the tip of her wand on the underside of his chin.

“What, Ron?” she hissed.

He stood. “Come on. We don’t have much time.” When he bent to pull her up, she shifted away. It was too hot to have anyone touch her.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, but was in the process of standing either way. She nearly stumbled into the fireplace as the sheet caught her foot.

Ron shook his head and started out the door.

In her shorts and shirt, she followed him with a frown. The frown got deeper as she stepped out into the heat, raging even in the middle of the night.

“Ron!” she hissed again.

She did not want to follow him deeper in to the woods; she didn’t want to go anywhere alone with him. He’d been trying to woo her since the end of the war and nothing she said or Molly said or Ginny said seemed to get through his thick skull; Hermione was not going to marry him.

…Still, they were friends and if he just had to show her something in the pitch-black night then she would feign interest, but keep her distance.

Her eyes scanned the yard. _Bugger!_ She’d lost sight of him. There was little light from the quarter moon, but her eyes had adjusted and she could make out the outlines of the trees, the shed and – _There he is!_

Hermione jogged to catch up to him, knowing that if he made it too far into the forest she would lose him.

A drop of sweat slid down the middle of her back, under her knickers and most uncomfortably, in between her bum cheeks. She could feel a slick layer of moisture on her skin, making her hair stick to her neck and forehead.

“Ouch!” she hissed as a twig snapped back to smack her in the face. Ron hadn’t held it for her to pass. He mumbled something, but she didn’t hear it. _Inconsiderate blighter!_ She thought viciously.

Finally he stopped, turned and motioned, but she couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, so she decided to voice her objection to being out here, practically melting in the night’s rampant heat.

He shushed her and pulled her forward.

Ready to push him away and scold him for treating her roughly, but she hesitated. Just a few feet away were tiny fireworks, but… not. They were beautiful and mesmerizing.

They looked like embers from a campfire, which floated into the air and exploded into tiny shimmering sparks of reflective glitter showered the earth and then disappeared.  

“What are they?” she whispered letting him pull her down to sit quietly on the bank of the river.

“Faeries.”

Just then one of the small beings came zooming by Hermione’s ear. She felt the breeze from the motion and heard the sound of twinkling.

Ron sidled up close to her and she could feel the heat from his skin. She wanted to shift away, but curiosity got the better of her and she waited for him to tell her about the faeries as she watched the flying magical beings with a smile playing around her lips.

“Tonight is the night that the Fey will grant knowledge of your true love. You gather faery dust on the palm of your hand then place your hand over your heart. It will transfer you into your heart-mate’s arms.”

Hermione waited for more information, but none was forthcoming, so she turned to whisper another question, but was silenced when Ron’s wet lips met her mouth in a slobbery and forceful kiss. She managed to shove at him enough to stand quickly, planning to make her way back to the house, faeries or no. _I’m going to hex him six ways to Sunday!_

Before she could take a step, an ‘ember’ floated up to eye level and then zipped around her shoulder and head, exploding and landing faerie dust over her person.

Ron opened his arms behind her, but she didn’t see. _This was it. She would finally understand that we were meant to be_ , he thought. _Our lives will start tonight. I’ll need to wake mum._

 

Hermione, as politely as possible, spit out the faerie dust that ended up in her mouth and wiped the gold substance from the palms of her hands, over her chest and-

Ron watched her disappear in a blink. “Bloody Hell!”

Cursing, he swatted away the laughing nuisance currently flying near his ear, and marched back to the house. He’d think of another way to convince her that she was his.

***

Hermione blinked to clear her vision, but when she opened her eyes, she had to acknowledge that this room was eerily familiar, but not immediately recognizable. Her eyes stopped at the man seated on the expensive looking leather couch.   He looked angelic, with his head back and his hands slack… speaking of, the tumbler he was holding was tipping over the arm of the couch. Hermione jerked to catch it out of instinct.

“Quick reflexes, Miss Granger. May I inquire as to why you are here, in the dead of night, and how you passed through our wards without alerting us?” It was Lucius Malfoy.

Hermione’s eyes widened a bit to see him so …casual. He was reclined on a leather chair, wearing black silk pajamas, and a silver silk robe. He wore slippers on his feet and his hair was left free.

“Granger?” Draco had woken to his father’s hushed tones.

Hermione shifted. She didn’t know what to tell them, because she didn’t know the answers.

 

Lucius was now sitting upright, Draco was now awake, and both men were waiting for her response.

Her lingering silence and confused expression prompted Draco to move gracefully to the bar and offer her refreshment. “Drink, Granger?”

Thankfully, she knew the answer to that question. There was nothing in this life that she wanted more than a stiff drink. “Yes, please,” she breathed out in eager relief.

Draco nodded and Lucius snorted. Hermione watched Draco pour her two fingers and as he turned to offer it to her, his eyes met hers. She waggled her eyebrows and he chuckled, understanding her meaning. He moved back and added two more fingers of liquor to her glass then handed it to her with a satisfied smirk.

Hermione tilted the rim of her glass in their direction, and said, “Salud.” The Malfoy men nodded and all three drank. Hermione knocked hers down in two gulps surprising both men.

Draco refilled the glasses and sat. He frowned up at her for a moment. “Are you wearing… glitter?”

She slouched with relief. Another question she could answer. “No. Faerie dust.”

Her declaration captured Lucius’ attention and he leaned forward. “Start from the beginning, Miss Granger, and tell us how your came to be here.”

 Okay, she could do this, even if Lucius was both slightly intimidating and ridiculously sexy in his silk pajamas.

“I’ve been staying at the Burrow until my home is finished.” She didn’t finish, because Draco straightened and asked, “Your home?”

“Yes. The old Rutherford Cottage.”

“In Surrey?”

Hermione smiled. “Yes! You know it?”

Draco nodded. “It needs some work. Who did you contract?”

“Terry Boot’s Construction-“ Draco was already shaking his head no. “Use Flint and Goyle. Better workmanship and they use elves, so a bit less expensive.”

She opened her mouth, but Draco beat her to it. “The elves are paid. How long have you been waiting?”

Hermione, again, was about to respond, but Lucius cleared his throat. “Can we focus, please?” He was pinching the bridge of his nose in a way that was reminiscent of her dearest Professor Snape.

“Right. Well, Ronald,” she uttered his name like it left a bad taste in her mouth, “woke me to drag me outside to see the faeries. No doubt thinking-“

“That the Fey would grant true love’s knowledge. Tell me, Miss Granger, do you know the story?”

“No, Mr. Malfoy,” she answered, mirroring his formal address.

Lucius motioned for her to sit.   She’d never seen either of the wizards thus and it intrigued her that not only were they so unfazed at her presence, but that they were taking it all in stride.

She was fairly certain that had the roles been reversed, she would have been standing, wand drawn and ready to curse them into Valhalla.

Hermione shivered relishing the cool air, but feeling goose flesh erupt on her loosely clothed body. It reminded her of her state of dress and she crossed her arms over her breasts in a self-conscious move. The smell of leather polish and cigars provoked her senses, and her mind drifted towards the last time she was present at Malfoy Manor.

Draco patted the space next to him wanting her near him.

He’d felt a pang at her arrival. This witch had played so many different roles in his life: nemesis, enemy, crush, enemy, crush, and obsession; recently, she had been in his thoughts. Just tonight, his father and he were discussing his guilt over what had occurred and their acknowledgement that when they saw her again, they would apologize and hope that she would find it in her heart to forgive them.

Neither man had seen her since she’d left, and during that time, both Draco and Lucius, unbeknownst to each other, were thinking that she’d matured into a very appealing witch.

 

Hermione sat next to Draco. She sighed and both former classmates waited with muted excitement for Lucius to tell his tale.

Lucius cleared his throat and Hermione felt almost giddy. She loved a good story. The fact that she was sitting with Draco’s arm around her and that she was inside Malfoy Manor did not faze her. She’d made peace with what happened during the war some time ago, but this whole situation was a bit… odd. She made a mental note, since she was here, to speak her peace and move forward.

“Long ago, in a time where the Fey ruled the magical creatures, there was a faerie princess named Eolande, who’d met and fallen in love with the wizard, Gawain.

“Their love was forbidden, but the two kept their feelings for each other a secret. After a time, Eolande couldn’t hide it from her father any longer, for she was an only child and their relationship was too cherished for lies.

“Eolande and Gawain walked hand in hand to her father’s court to tell him of the news. The two lovers knelt and paid their respects to the High King of the Fey, and told him of their desire to marry.

“The king was abashed with rage; his magic reacted in chaos, sending fireworks shooting from his fingertips. He ordered Gawain seized by the palace guards and sentenced him to death.

 

“Eolande watched in horror as Gawain was brutally taken from her. In her grief for her lover and her fury at her father, she disowned the kingdom and her father, cursing him to live the remainder of his life alone.

“After many years of solitude, he called to his daughter. Eolande appeared to him in his dreams, where they came to an agreement. The king offered her that once per year, she could reunite with Gawain’s soul, but should another magical being bear witness, they would be given knowledge of their heart-mate.”

Hermione sighed and further snuggled into Draco’s side. Lucius had a very engaging voice; his deep timber lulling her into a trance focused only on him. She could almost feel the vibration of his chest. Draco’s warmth also gave her comfort beyond her expectation. She was in a cocoon that smelled of masculine spice and brandy.

The silence loitered comfortably. Each lost in his/her own thoughts on the story.

Lucius watched Hermione. He could almost hear the wheels turning in her head. What did this mean for her?

“So…”

Lucius answered before she finished. “The Fey sprinkle, or in your case, douse faerie dust on the unsuspecting witches or wizards and the dust transports them to their-“

“Heart-mates,” Draco finished for him - a little too chipper.

 

Hermione nodded, still taking it all in. “Who… Which one of you is meant for me then?” It was a dumb question, she acknowledged. Shouldn’t she be able to feel or sense which Malfoy was hers?

Lucius didn’t scoff and Draco didn’t laugh at her, they only just watched her with knowing eyes.

_Oh_.

“Both…?” it came out a squeaky whisper, but she knew it to be true.

**

The rest of the night, they’d stayed up until the sun reached its peak and began to set again.

Hermione learned that Narcissa, though beautiful, was cold and soulless. One of the many stories to prove Narcissa’s heartless behavior and vindictive nature included one where Lucius relayed a rather violent death for one of his prized albino peacocks – his favorite. Narcissa had skinned the bird then burned it, leaving it for Lucius to find in the morning. Hermione noted that Lucius looked rather traumatized by the killing of this fowl, and her sympathies went out to him.

They talked about the war, the Order, Death Eaters and education. Hermione told them that she wanted to work at Gringotts as a curse breaker. That had been when Lucius informed her that Malfoy Industries was currently negotiating that very thing with that very organization.

 

When none of them could keep their eyes open anymore, Hermione was carried to her own room to sleep.

She never made it back to the Burrow or her newly purchased home.

And as time went by, the urgency to hex Ron six ways from Sunday, eased. Hermione did owl her situation to the Weasley’s to which Ronald reacted with childish antics.

_Ron flopped on the old couch, causing a puff of dust to cloud the air briefly. He dropped his face in his hands and keened with displeasure. “It all just backfired! Bloody fairies!”_

**_**Two Years After That_ **

“Must we?” he asked, his tone as near to a whine as any man’s could be.

Hermione cupped his cheek. “We owe him. Now, shall we pay our appreciation with fireworks?”

Draco smirked from across the room while Hermione coddled his whining father. The wizard really did not like the Weasleys and physically shuddered at the idea of stepping one finely crafted leather shoe in the hovel they called home.

Reluctantly, he accepted a side-along Apparation with his fiancée, and with his son following.

The Malfoy men watched as their witch hugged Molly and Arthur Weasley, telling them of the news before it hit the papers: they were to be married as a Triad.

 

Lucius and Draco approached just as Hermione said, “We must find Ron to thank him! Without him dragging me to see the Fey, I would have never… well, I would’ve missed out on so much.”

Exactly six minutes and twenty-two seconds later, Ron fainted to the ground with a thump.

Fin.

 

 

 


End file.
